


The Violet Hour

by rainsoakedshoes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Napping, Near Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:19:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainsoakedshoes/pseuds/rainsoakedshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia wasn’t all that surprised that Derek was the one to find her. It was the second time he had found her wandering around the streets of Beacon Hills. He pulled up next to the curb as she was walking along the sidewalk. Derek wound down the car windows, but he didn’t say anything. Lydia waited for a few moments, then she opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Violet Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Title and opening quote taken from _The Waste Land_ by T.S. Eliot

_at the violet hour, the evening hour that strives homeward_

* * *

 

Lydia wasn’t all that surprised that Derek was the one to find her. It was the second time he had found her wandering around the streets of Beacon Hills. He pulled up next to the curb as she was walking along the sidewalk. Derek wound down the car windows, but he didn’t say anything. Lydia waited for a few moments, then she opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat.

Lydia buckled her seatbelt as Derek pulled away from the curb. They didn’t look at each other.

“This is the third time this week,” Derek said.

“I know,” Lydia replied quietly.

Lydia’s recent habit of walking the streets of Beacon Hills by herself was starting to become concerning to the pack. However Lydia had made it pretty clear to them that she wasn’t going to stop her walks any time soon. Thankfully though she did answer their messages and phone calls, so they knew where she was and that she was safe.

Derek, Scott, and Stiles had gotten into the habit of going out to look for her when they knew that she had been out for hours. It had been weeks and still none of them knew her motivation behind taking the walks.

Lydia slipped her shoes off. She hadn’t noticed how sore her feet were until she had stopped and sat down. She looked out the window and realised that Derek was heading towards her place.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” Lydia said.

“Okay.” Derek didn’t argue with her, he just took the next right they came to which led them away from Lydia’s house. “We’ll drive around for a while.”

They were heading west, and the sun was almost set. Earlier the sky had been lit up in bright pinks and oranges as the sun got lower, now as twilight descended on Beacon Hills those colours had darkened, the orange had faded, and the pink had turned purple. The suns’ rays and the city haze made the town seem ethereal. It was like looking through violet tinted glasses.

“I’ve lived in Beacon Hills my whole life,” Lydia started, her voice soft. “And I barely know anything about it.”

“You know a lot more than most people who live here,” Derek pointed out.

 “It’s still not enough.”

Derek glanced at her. She was staring resolutely ahead, her hair tied up out of her face in a messy bun, and her jaw set.

“Is that what the walks are about?” Derek asked. “You’re trying to get to know the town better by walking it?”

Lydia nodded in reply. In the beginning the walks had been a way for her to clear her head. She was wandering around, but she was still in complete control of where she was going. After she got turned around and lost on her first few walks Lydia had realised how unfamiliar she really was with most of the town. So her walks had morphed into a mission to memorise the streets of Beacon Hills.

Derek didn’t ask Lydia to elaborate.

At first that was something that had annoyed Lydia; Derek’s silence, his refusal or inability to communicate. Lydia had always had people around her, talking to her and at her. It was what she knew, and what she thought she was comfortable with. But now she appreciated the moments of silence she had with Derek. Sometimes the voices in her head got so loud the quiet is what she craved the most.  

Derek took a left and Lydia recognised the route he was taking.

“Are we going to the loft?” Lydia asked.

“If that’s okay,” Derek said. “You said you didn’t want to go home, but I figured since it was almost dark.” He trailed off with a shrug, ready to turn the car back around if Lydia requested it.

“The loft is good,” Lydia told him.

Lydia looked at Derek. They were heading north now, and Derek was backlit by the last rays of the setting sun. The sky was indigo at the horizon, and it wouldn’t be long before the first stars were visible. They passed by a streetlamp and Lydia caught the way the reflecting light caused Derek’s eyes to shine blue for a fraction of a second.

By the time they got back to the loft the sun had set completely.

Lydia followed Derek inside, still barefoot and carrying her shoes in one hand. Derek didn’t turn the lights on. The floor to ceiling windows let in the moonlight that was bright enough to illuminate everything.

It was a full moon, not that you could tell from looking at Derek.

Except, Lydia realised, she _could_ tell just from looking at Derek. It was in the way he kept clenching and unclenching his fists, flexing his fingers like he could feel his claws itching to break through, and in the way his shoulders were tighter than usual. He was tense and stood straight as a rod. They were minute details really, small things that Lydia noticed because she knew what Derek looked like when he was more relaxed.

Lydia dropped her shoes on the floor next to the couch.

“Are you hungry?” Derek asked. He didn’t have much food in the loft, but he had his phone out ready to order take out.

Lydia shook her head. “No.” There was a beat of silence. “I’m just tired.”

Lydia’s legs and feet ached from all the walking, but that wasn’t the kind of tired she was talking about. The kind of tired she was experiencing was mental, not physical.

“You can lie down if you want,” Derek said, nodding towards the bed. “Or I can drive you home.”

Lydia considered the offer for a moment, then she squared her shoulders and walked across the loft to Derek’s bed.

Derek’s bed was made, the sheets folded and tucked in as perfect hospital corners. Lydia didn’t pull back the covers though, she just lay down on top of them. She took her hair out of the bun she’d had it in, and settled down with her head on Derek’s pillow.

The pillow was cool against the side of Lydia’s face. It smelled faintly laundry detergent and shampoo. Lydia remembered how a while back Derek had mentioned that he didn’t wear cologne because he didn’t like the way the chemicals interfered with his sense of smell. After that Lydia had begun to limit her use of perfume, especially when she knew she was going to be in situations where the werewolves needed their senses to be at their sharpest.

Lydia closed her eyes and listened to Derek move around the loft. He packed up books that had been sitting on the coffee table and moved them to the correct bookshelves.

The loft was looking more like a home than it had been. It was still Spartan, Derek owned little furniture, but it felt more comfortable to be in.

After a while Lydia heard Derek make his way over to the bed. At first she thought he was going to ask if she wanted to go home yet, but then the bed dipped under Derek’s weight and he was laying down next to her.

Lydia opened her eyes to look at Derek who had his head on the other pillow, only inches away from Lydia.

“You want to know the streets better because you think that will help you protect the people who live here.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

Lydia nodded. She was relieved that Derek understood without her trying to put it into words.

Derek reached out between the two of them and took Lydia’s hand in his. The last time they had held hands was after a run in with some pixies, which had left Lydia with a nasty gash on her arm, Derek had taken her pain then.

This was different though. Derek didn’t draw out her pain and take it into his own veins. It was just simple skin on skin contact.

Lydia held onto Derek’s hand a little tighter, and she noticed how his shoulders lost some of their tension.

Derek held eye contact with Lydia, and she didn’t look away. Up close Derek could see how Lydia hadn’t been able to completely fix her smudged mascara, and he wondered if she had been crying on her walk.

“I’m tired,” Lydia said again. Her voice was barely a whisper. It was the only way she could think of how to describe what she was feeling. Feeling the need to protect the town, having the weight of all those people’s lives on her shoulders. The way Derek looked at her let her know that he knew what she meant.

Derek let go of Lydia’s hand and she made a small noise of complaint, but then Derek brought his hand up and tucked her hair behind her ear. His large hand cupped the side of her face, and his thumb swept across her cheek.

This time Derek did take her pain. Lydia couldn’t see the darkness work its way into his veins, but she saw the brief look of discomfort that flickered across Derek’s face.

The action did little to dull the emotional pain she was feeling, but it helped with the physical ache. The tension between her shoulder blades disappeared, and she could no longer feel the sting of the forming blisters on her feet.

Lydia yawned and Derek smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“You can stay as long as you want,” Derek said. His voice was just as quiet as Lydia’s had been.

Derek took his hand away from Lydia’s face and tangled their fingers together again.

Lydia closed her eyes and shifted towards Derek, seeking out his body heat. The loft was cold, it almost always was, but Lydia didn’t want to get up so they could slip underneath the covers. Derek stayed still and let Lydia get comfortable.

Lydia ended up pressed against Derek’s chest, with her head tucked under his chin. Their hands were still linked together between their bodies.

It was still early in the night and the full moon was still rising. Derek could feel the itch to shift under his skin, but lying there with Lydia he was comfortable. He wasn’t actively fighting to control his shift. As he listened to Lydia’s breathing and heartbeat even out Derek’s eyelids grew heavy and he realised that even with the full moon he could be able to fall asleep with her.

**Author's Note:**

> so basically i had to read The Waste Land for my modernism class and this is what i got out of it. i hope you guys liked it 
> 
> like always you can find me on [tumblr](http://heavenlyhale.tumblr.com/)


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